Page 39 of Finding Hope

You’d think that a whole decade would cool Jon’s attitude… but I think he’s getting worse with age.

The gate buzzer sounds and has our group looking back to the security screen. Swearing, I watch Jack sluggishly jog onto our street with Annie walking beside him. Soaked through with sweat, Jack’s hair hangs in his eyes and sticks to his forehead.

He looks awful.

Not once since I met him has he been this unfit. The amount of bad food, alcohol, and pot in his system is wreaking havoc on what was once the fittest body this country boasted.

I sigh. “You bunch of assholes. You wouldn’t stop bullshitting long enough to figure our shit out.”

Watching in the monitor, I follow Jack’s steps as he moves past his house, skips onto my porch steps, then stops at the front door.

Hesitating, he has our whole group holding our breath and waiting for his next move.

Visibly shaking, green faced, dripping sweat, he stands at my front door for a full minute before turning the knob and stepping through.

The kids whale on each other in the living room, then squeal with delight when they catch sight of their absentee uncle.

Expecting him to walk straight into the kitchen, I frown when the group of kids quiet but the doorway remains empty. Silently, Kit climbs from my lap and sneaks to the wall separating the living and dining spaces.

Watching her tiptoe and stop at the doorway, my heart thunders as she peeks around the corner and chokes on a cry. Big fat tears roll onto her cheeks, and standing to go fix whatever’s hurting her, I stop when she turns and shakes her head. Moving back across the room, she pushes me down and climbs into my lap the way my baby girl does most nights.

“Baby? What’s happening?”

“He’s hugging the kids.”

My breath races out on an odd mixture of relief and worry. He needs family. He definitely needs us. He needs to be brought back to his roots.

“Which one?”

Laughing softly, she fingers the hem of my shirt. “All of them. It’s a stack on, but he’s whispering sweet nothings into Em’s ear. I’d say he’s apologizing again for missing her party.”

I run feather soft strokes along her spine and breathe in the scent of coconuts. “Do you reckon it’s time to let him off the hook for that, yet?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Ten silent minutes after he walked into my home, Jack stops in the kitchen doorway; sweat soaked shirt, trembling hands, and Evie’s small hand clasping his to still the tremors.

She was always his girl. Since she was three and talked in the third person, they’ve been thick as thieves.

“Kit…” Shakily, he swipes his spare hand beneath his nose. Clearing his throat with a gentle cough, his tear-soaked eyes meet ours. “Can I come home?”

11

JACK

WORKING

Dropping my head into a bucket at the side of the boxing ring, I spew up everything I’ve eaten this week… for the third time today.

Plus corn.

There’s always corn! Where the fuck does it come from?

“Let’s go,” Bobby coaches. “Get it up, get up, start again.”

“Fuck off, B.” The whooshing in my brain and the pending darkness has my head lolling on my shoulders.

I don’t know if I’m this bad because of how unfit I’ve become over this year – a hell of a lot more than I thought I was – or if it’s the lack of alcohol or weed I’d normally have in my system by this time each day.

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